


Air

by driftingskies237



Series: Elements [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, M/M, Minor Injuries, No Smut, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Merlin (Merlin), Pre-Slash, Sharing Body Heat, They are both idiots sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25412110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftingskies237/pseuds/driftingskies237
Summary: Merlin and Arthur get separated from the knights when a blizzard passes through. The duo must rely on each other more than ever before in order to find their way back home safely.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), pre Merlin/Arthur Pendragon
Series: Elements [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783420
Comments: 32
Kudos: 225





	Air

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 2 of my series "Elements." It's not necessary to read the first part, but the first part contains more buildup to this part, so I suggest you do read it! Two more parts in the series after this: Fire, then Water last. I hope you all enjoy this next part! :)

Merlin awakens to snow. Snow having fallen is not surprising; after all, it is the beginning of winter. What is surprising, however, is that snow surrounds him even though Merlin remembers pitching the tents last night before falling asleep.

Merlin shivers, mind yearning to fade back into a blissful unconsciousness. The bite of the cold wind against his body will not allow it, though. He’s forced fully awake by a particularly forceful breeze, sending a spiral of cold snow dust sprinkling across him. Merlin pries open his eyes, still weary from sleep. The first thing he notices is the half-open tent that allows snow to spew inside. The entire front has been blown open, despite Merlin driving the steaks deep into the ground. Merlin also feels something dripping from above. He glances up and is rewarded with a drop of icy water landing on his face. The tent droops down, piled heavy with what looks like a coat of fresh snow that has been leaking through the tent’s fabric.

A distorted mumble reminds Merlin that he’s not alone. He’s in Arthur’s tent because even Arthur isn’t cruel enough to force Merlin to sleep outside in the winter. Arthur remains asleep under his thick layer of furs, although even with them he appears to be shivering slightly in his sleep.

Merlin wraps his thin blankets around his shoulders and ventures toward the flapping tent opening. He looks outside, the bright white of the snow blinding even in the low dawn light. His jaw drops at what he sees. Last night, a thin coating of snow covered the grass in splotches, and although it was chilly, there was no howling wind or freezing temperatures. Today, however, is an entirely different story. Already, piles of snow have gathered in the night that reaches almost to the top of Merlin’s boots. Freezing wind knocks into Merlin, almost sending him face-first into the snow. On top of that, snow continues to fall, whipping around in flurries as the breeze picks up.

Merlin hurries back toward Arthur’s sleeping form and shakes him awake.

“Arthur! Wake up,” Merlin says, shaking him.

Arthur groans, huddling in his makeshift bed deeper. “It’s hardly even light out, Merlin.”

“Trust me, we’re going to want an early start.”

Realizing that Merlin isn’t budging, Arthur rolls onto his back with a groan. He pulls back his furs, and Merlin can see the tremors of cold pass through him.

“Why is it so bloody freezing in here?! Are you really so incompetent that you can’t pitch a tent correctly?” Arthur hisses, rubbing at his forearms.

“It’s not my fault, clotpole! A snowstorm rolled in overnight.”

This catches Arthur’s attention. “A storm? How bad?”

“Based on the state of our tent, I would say pretty bad!”

Arthur’s brows furrow together, and his lips form a fine line. It’s his thinking face, and if it wasn’t for the potential seriousness of the situation, Merlin definitely would have made fun of him for it.

“We’re less than a day’s ride away from Camelot. We’ll just have to ride quickly. Gather the knights and inform them, then start packing.”

This hunting trip was supposed to be quick and easy. Of course, Merlin should know by now that nothing ever turns out the way they plan it. Still, Merlin cannot fathom how Arthur survived without him before Merlin came to Camelot. As far as Merlin knows, this snowstorm is just a storm. There’s no uncomfortable feeling of dark magic that he can detect. But it doesn’t have to be magic to be dangerous.

Merlin thought that going hunting at the beginning of winter was a bad idea in the first place. Winter is finicky, especially near the start and end. While the middle of winter may wrack Camelot with layers of snow and ice, it’s more predictable. In the beginning, though, the seasons are still adapting to the change. Somedays may feel more like autumn than winter, but the next day, snow could be dumped on them. Despite his worries, Merlin didn’t say anything because they didn’t have much of a choice. A few fortnights ago, bandits managed to sneak in and steal most of their food stock for winter. Even if the royal palace had cut down significantly on their food intake, many townspeople would still be left with nothing to buy. Hence, the hunting trip. Winter is hibernation time for many creatures, but still on the edge of winter, this might be the last chance to catch animals. Arthur understood this, and he immediately ordered hunts to begin. Since then, some smaller game has been caught, but not enough.

With Arthur still under the scrutiny of Camelot’s people as their new King, the pressure to win everyone’s favor has been insurmountable. And Merlin understands being under pressure. Although Arthur has mellowed a bit since their journey to Ealdor, his burden continues to weigh on his shoulders, much like Merlin’s own burden of destiny. So Merlin didn’t argue when Arthur declared he would go on his own hunt with his best knights further away from Camelot. Arthur’s duty to his people supersedes Merlin’s concerns. Now, Merlin wishes he had advised against this trip, even though he knows his efforts would have been futile. At least he would have spoken up, voiced his concerns. Maybe Arthur would have been more cautious. All they can do now is hope that they make it back to Camelot safely.

As Arthur instructs, Merlin wakes the others. Getting going early in the morning is difficult enough, let alone in the wind and snow. Merlin can barely feel his fingers as he attempts to saddle the horses. That morning, everyone pitches in to help back, even Arthur. No one bothers with breakfast, knowing they wouldn’t have enough time. The game gets securely packed, mostly with Leon’s horse who is the strongest and largest.

By the time the sun rises above the mountains, they’re ready to set off. Although Merlin’s been working up a sweat getting ready, the chill in his body is impossible to get rid of. He attempts to mount his horse, but the constant shivers in his body along with his tired state make it a challenge.

“I keep telling you you’re only skin and bones, my friend!” Gwaine grins, appearing behind him with reddened cheeks. A blanket suddenly drapes over Merlin’s shoulders, and he huddles into it gratefully.

“And I keep telling you that you’re made up more of mead than water,” Merlin says pointedly as Gwaine not so discretely pulls out a flask.

“Ah, well you aren’t wrong there. Good thing too, right now. It heats you up. Fancy a bit?” Gwaine asks, swinging the flask in front of Merlin’s face.

“I think I’m okay for now. Thanks, Gwaine.”

A few horses over, Arthur calls out, “Gwaine, I thought I told you to stop bringing that flask on hunting trips!”

“Oops, I think Princess caught me. I better go apologize to his Royal arse.”

Laughing, Merlin tugs the blanket more firmly around himself. With a pat on the shoulder, Gwaine takes off toward Arthur, feigning innocence. Merlin smiles, despite the situation. The last year has been hectic, so much so that these types of trips haven’t been nearly as frequent. It’s nice, being together with all of them, even if it is in the cold. And even though Arthur would never outright admit it, Merlin knows that he’s been missing spending quality time with his Knights now that he’s King. As Prince, he had much more freedom in his schedule, but now, Arthur often has to skip out on training sessions or other get-togethers because of his duties. Even though the main purpose of this hunting trip was to catch game, Merlin knew that Arthur wanted the company, as well.

“Quit daydreaming so we can get going, Merlin!” Arthur declares, horse trudging up to Merlin.

“You want to talk about dreams? Because you said some interesting things in your sleep last night…” Merlin trails off with a teasing smirk.

Arthur’s face turns even redder. “I did not!”

The knights' chuckle at their antics. In truth, Arthur didn’t talk in his sleep, but he sure did snore.

“Come on, sire, I thought we were going?” Merlin jabs cheekily. Arthur glares at him.

They do leave after that. At first, the ride isn’t too bad. The winds die down as they get deeper into the forest, and snow only falls lightly. The horses are doing all the real work, anyway, trudging through the thick snow. Merlin makes a mental note to himself to give all the horses extra apple slices for the rest of winter once they get back. The cold remains, and dark clouds obscure the sun, removing any source of potential warmth.

It’s then that Merlin relishes in the serenity and beauty of winter. The knights joke with each other up ahead, but Merlin lags back just a bit. Many people, magic users and nonmagic users alike, think of the winter only as harsh and void of life. But Merlin has never perceived winter like that. His connection with the earth doesn’t diminish in the winter, it only strengthens. Winter isn’t full of death and destruction but rather the chance for new beginnings. Plants and animals alike are dormant, only to rise again on new legs when springtime comes. It’s a rebirth; a chance to grow and change after being dormant for so long. Winter allows for a clean slate, something that Merlin often wishes he had.

And Merlin’s magic loves the winter. While autumn feels like warmth and growth and home, winter is intensity and independence. With the winter solstice drawing near, Merlin’s connection to his magic is especially strong. As Gaius once explained to him, the winter solstice is the day in which the spirit world and their world are the closest. During this time, Merlin’s magic seems to thrive, drawing its power and energy from the spirit world. While it can be a consuming experience, it leads to a calmness afterward that allows Merlin to feel more at peace with himself. That all-encompassing calmness is what this moment in the forest reminds him of. Tall pine trees are laden with freshly fallen snow. Snowflakes cascading down from the sky so slowly that they seem to be suspended in place. White sparkles off into the distance and the mountain slopes are covered up so much that it looks like a never-ending landscape.

But, as Merlin has learned from his time in Camelot, chaos will erupt at the most inconvenient of times.

The gusts and snow seem to rise with the sun. After riding for a few hours, the peace and serenity of the forest gets interrupted. Wind whips around them impossibly fast, sending snow flurries spiraling through the air. Snow pellets hit their cheeks, stinging their already cold faces. They attempt to protect themselves as best they can, but even the thicker pieces of fabric are no match for the storm. Snow falls faster and heavier than ever, and it continues to build up thick from the ground. The horses struggle in earnest now, snow sticking to their feet.

“This is turning into a blizzard!” Lancelot comments, having to shout over the noise of the wind blowing. “Should we take shelter?!”

“There’s nothing near here! The best chance we have is making it back to Camelot!” Arthur shouts back, voice muffled by the fabric he wears over his face.

Gwaine adds, “Unless we die of frostbite, first! There’s no way the horses can make the journey back.”

He’s right, though Merlin knows that Arthur hates to admit it. The horses are already weary from carrying them, the game they managed to hunt, and all their supplies, not to mention the cold and wind. But they can’t just leave them behind, either. They need to stop somewhere.

“There’s a group of large caves, about an hour away from Camelot,” Arthur remembers. “If we can make it there, we can camp out for the night and ride out this storm!”

Merlin knows the spot that Arthur is talking about, and he knows that they’re still far away. The caves are difficult to miss, though, and they are certainly big enough to house all of them and their horses. Plus, as of right now, they don’t have any other options.

The knights appear to agree. Before Arthur makes the final order, though, he turns back toward Merlin. Despite the constant snow blurring his vision, Arthur’s eyes shine bright. Merlin meets them and nods his head.

“I’m with you,” Merlin agrees.

They march onward.

The weather only gets more brutal as they continue. The wind and snow both pick up. Soon, Merlin can barely see a few feet in front of him. They’re trapped in a full-blown blizzard. The temperature keeps dropping lower and lower. Merlin, only protected by his flimsy jacket and the blanket draped across his shoulders, shivers constantly and violently. His teeth chatter painfully against each other, despite efforts to hold it back.

The further along the group gets, the less talking there is. Everyone is too cold and too focused on making it out of the blizzard alive. It makes the whole situation feel a lot more serious. As they trek through the deep snow without breaks, Merlin begins to believe they might make it. They’re making relatively good time despite the storm. But, as always, things go wrong.

It starts when Merlin’s mare gets spooked. A stray raven bursts from out of nowhere and flies directly in front of him. His horse whinnies, going up on her hind legs and throwing a startled Merlin from the saddle. He lands, feeling the shock of being flung into the wet, cold snow. It doesn’t help that Merlin’s breath gets knocked out of him, either. He’s left gasping for breaths, choking on the icy air. His mare runs off in the opposite direction, and Merlin realizes he’ll probably never get her back.

“Arthur!” Merlin coughs out, rolling onto his side. He takes a few seconds to regain his breath, then shouts out Arthur’s name again, as loud as he can. “ARTHUR!”

The wind is loud around them, though, and Merlin worries that none of the knights will hear him. After all, Merlin was in the back of the pack, and they didn’t even seem to hear him when he fell off his horse. They were probably all too far away already.

Merlin shivers pitifully, huddling in on himself. He tucks the blanket around his body tighter, hoping it will provide a semblance of warmth despite it being half-soaked with snow. Even though he’s exhausted, though, Merlin knows he shouldn’t just be lying in the snow. So, after a few more beats, Merlin clambers to his feet. He’s not injured aside from some inevitable bruises. He’s pondering exactly what to do when suddenly, a figure on a horse appears a few feet in front of him. Merlin squints at the intruder, stumbling backward and holding out a hand in preparation.

“Merlin!” A familiar voice says, jumping off the horse. Merlin can now spot the familiar tuff of blond hair through the blizzard, as well as the long red cloak that has been swapped in place of the normal capes due to the cold weather

“Arthur,” Merlin sighs in relief. “You heard me.”

“Just barely. At first, I thought I imagined it, but then I looked back and saw you were missing. Speaking of which, you’re an idiot.”

“It’s not my fault my mare got spooked and threw me off!”

“Oh, I see.”

“What, did you think I just decided to abandon my horse and have a nice, relaxing sit down in a  _ blizzard?!” _

Arthur scowls, “Whatever! Come one, let’s go catch back up with the knights.”

“They didn’t come?”

“They’re waiting up ahead in case you caught up. Let’s get a move on.”

Merlin goes to get up on Arthur’s horse, to which Arthur gives him a look of confusion. Merlin puts his hands up, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Arthur asks.

“Well, you can’t expect me to walk the rest of the way back!” Merlin retorts. “And as you can see, my mare ran off.”

And even though both of their cheeks are already red from the cold, Merlin swears he sees Arthur’s cheeks redden even further. “I suppose I could share my horse _ , just this once _ , since you can’t even keep track of your own horse.”

He climbs on with a cheeky smile, watching as Merlin sputters. Nevertheless, he offers Merlin one of his gloved hands. Merlin clasps it in his own, allowing his shivering body to be pulled up onto the horse behind Arthur. When he brushes up against Arthur’s back, Arthur gasps.

“You’re soaking wet!” Arthur complains.

“Yeah, well, that’s what getting tossed off your horse in a blizzard will do to you.”

Arthur’s quiet, not bringing his own retort. Merlin feels his back tensing up as he clicks the horse forward. Merlin’s hands loosely clasp around Arthur’s waist, trying to get as close as he can to Arthur’s body warmth without getting them both wet.

They ride on, entering a thick grove of trees. That, coupled with the billowing and unending snowfall, makes it nearly impossible to see anything. Daylight is also drawing to a close. Although the sun remained hidden behind the dark storm clouds most of the day, it helped to guide them. Now, with the sun getting lower and dimmer in the sky, the darkness seeping in makes it all the more difficult to navigate.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Merlin asks him when they don’t run into the familiar group of knights within a few minutes.

“Yes,  _ Mer _ lin.”

“I’m just saying that it’s hard to see out here. We could’ve taken a wrong turn.”

“I think I know the way back to my own kingdom! Now would you just be quiet for once and let me think!” Arthur snaps.

Merlin knows that the frustration of the storm and lack of sleep is getting to both of them, but Arthur’s crudeness still stuns him into silence. Usually, when Arthur shouts at him, it’s partially in a teasing manner. Many times, his shouts are just loud and not angry. It’s rare these days that Arthur truly yells at him like he’s angry, but this is one of those times. Merlin tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard not to. Back when Merlin first started as Arthur’s servant, Arthur would get truly angry at him many times. Now that the two are much closer, Merlin has come to expect his treatment to be less like a worthless servant and more like a friend. But in these moments, when Arthur is dismissing his advice and crass altogether, it makes Merlin wonder if he’s made any progress with the young King at all.

They ride in silence while Arthur stews. Merlin doesn’t try to comfort Arthur at this point, knowing it’s best to let him calm down for a bit first. Eventually, they find themselves coming to a clearing. There’s an overlook up ahead, a perfect vantage point to regain their bearings. Arthur takes the initiative before Merlin can even think to say something. He guides the horse over to a nearby tree where he hops down and begins tying her up. Merlin follows his lead, clambering off the saddle far less gracefully.

Arthur heads over to the edge without a word, leaving Merlin to follow behind him like a perfect servant. The point itself isn’t super tall, but it gives them a good view of the land ahead. Merlin considers using his magic to see the path ahead and find their way back to Camelot, but he has a feeling that Arthur wouldn’t take any of his suggestions at the moment.

Arthur squints, trying to see more than the white out of snow and the gleam of the setting sun. He takes another step forward, trying to see further. It’s then that Merlin spots it: a crack, forming right along the edge where Arthur is standing.

“Arthur—” Merlin cries out in warning, rushing forward.

Arthur turns, looking confused and annoyed. “Honestly, Merlin, what—”

The crack splinters beneath his feet, and a second later, it breaks. Arthur gasps, and a look of panic flashes across his face. Merlin lunges, grappling for his hand. Their fingers join briefly, but the combination of gravity, strong winds, and slippery snow propels them both forward. Arthur falls backward, legs skimming against the snowy hill as he falls. Merlin barely has time to think as his eyes flash gold, cushioning both their falls as best as he can. Merlin himself crashes sideways onto the slanted drop-off. His stomach drops as he falls, the feeling of whooshing air around him.

He feels himself make impact with the ground, and everything goes black for a few seconds. When he comes back to reality, Merlin finds himself sprawled sideways in the snow. He gathers his bearings, wincing as his muscles protest movement. Aside from a bruised and aching body, though, Merlin can’t detect any injuries. It takes Merlin a bit to remember what happened, but then it all comes rushing back to him at once.

“Arthur,” Merlin gasps, stumbling to his feet.

A few feet past Merlin, Arthur is strewn on his back, red cloak splayed in ripples across the snowy bank. It waves like a flag in the wind. Ignoring his building headache and numb toes, Merlin hurries to Arthur’s side. His heart pounds in his chest, the worry of not having done enough to prevent the fall invading his mind.

Merlin crouches down beside him before his legs give out and he’s left on his knees. He grasps the side of Arthur’s face tenderly, wishing that touches like these would have been reserved for a better moment. Arthur’s skin feels warm, but Merlin decides it’s probably because his hands are freezing. The puff of warm breath in the cold air alerts Merlin to the fact that Arthur is alive. Before Merlin can check Arthur over for injuries, Arthur shifts with a tapered off groan.

“Urgh…what?” Arthur mumbles, eyes fluttering open

“ _ Arthur _ ,” Merlin repeats, this time expressing his relief. “Are you okay?”

Arthur squints up at him, trying to ascertain Merlin’s face in the darkening sky. He shifts, wincing as he does so. It’s then that Merlin notices the way Arthur’s wrist was trapped underneath his body weight. Just from a glance, Merlin can tell that it’s broken.

“Don’t move, your wrist is broken,” Merlin warns him, placing a hand against Arthur’s plated shoulder.

“I can tell.” Despite Merlin’s warning, Arthur goes to sit up. Merlin glares at him, but Arthur does manage to sit up relatively easily.

“I told you to stay still, prat,” Merlin complains to mask his worry. Arthur, as usual, somehow manages to see right through his façade.

Arthur’s features soften, and he places his good hand on Merlin’s upper arm. “I’m okay, Merlin, truly. Other than my wrist and a few bruises, I feel alright.”

“Well, I’ll be the judge of that,” Merlin mutters, going to fuss over Arthur.

Merlin expects Arthur to brush him off, but much to his surprise, Arthur merely leans closer, allowing Merlin to check him as best as possible in the dark. Merlin checks Arthur’s head for any wounds and finds none. He goes to check Arthur’s spine next. As his fingers brush the bottom of his neck, Arthur hisses. Merlin startles, suddenly worrying that Arthur’s injuries may be more severe.

“God, Merlin, your hands are freezing! And I thought I was cold,” Arthur explains. “Where are your gloves?”

“I don’t have any,” Merlin shrugs. “My old ones got too many holes in them to be wearable, and I haven’t had the time or money to replace them.”

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

“Sorry for not being a spoiled dollophead like yourself!”

“ _ Me _ , a dollophead?! You’re the one who fell off your horse in the first place! It’s all your fault we’re in this mess in the first place!”

Merlin snaps his mouth shut, unable to respond. Because this is all his fault, isn’t it? If it weren’t for him, Arthur would be back resting peacefully in Camelot.

Arthur backtracks, “Merlin—”

“Can you stand, sire?” Merlin asks dutifully, pointedly ignoring anything Arthur was going to say.

Arthur opens his mouth as if to say something but thinks better of it. Instead, he demonstrates that he can stand, only wobbling a bit as the wind gusts up. Merlin reaches to steady him, retracting his hand from Arthur as soon as Arthur doesn’t wobble. Arthur looks at him, face undecipherable.

“I doubt we can get back up to the horse, so we should find a place to take shelter,” Arthur instructs.

“I believe I saw a small cave in the rocks over there, sire,” Merlin points, his whole arm shaking as he does. He then takes off before Arthur can say anything else. The sound of a second pair of footfalls in the deep snow follows him right after, alerting Merlin to Arthur’s continued presence. The duo don’t speak to each other, coldness of the weather extending to the feeling between them.

They reach the cave if you could even call it that. Although it had a covering on the sides and top, it barely extended far deep into the rocks. The wind and snow still find their way in the front edge of the cave, but the back is relatively dry. Seeing as the cave isn’t nearly far enough enclosed, no animals are dwelling there at least. Merlin crawls in first, shivering violently. The cave isn’t quite tall enough for them to stand in, so instead Merlin sits down with his legs curled up to his chest. Arthur joins him, mirroring his position but sitting as far away as the cave will allow.

Exhausted, upset, and freezing, Merlin remains firmly rooted in his position, hoping to provide himself with some semblance of warmth. The cave walls block the worst of the winds, at least. Merlin knows it’s stupid to be annoyed with Arthur, and he probably wouldn’t be if he wasn’t so tired. After all, Merlin is just trying to help, but Arthur makes it increasingly hard to do so. Another strong shiver flows through his body. He tucks his fingertips deeper in his shirt fabric when he notices the pale tinge to them.

Suddenly, a swish of red fabric takes over his vision. Arthur is kneeling in front of him, one of his wrists tucked into his chest, the other smoothing his now removed cloak over Merlin’s front. Merlin huddles into the fabric, enjoying the small bit of warmth that comes with it, but as usual, he can’t help but worry about Arthur. After relishing the feeling for a few more seconds, he shifts to take it off.

“Keep it on,” Arthur instructs, putting it back into place. “You already look half frozen.”

“W-What about y-you?” Merlin asks, teeth chattering.

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur insists. “I have more layers. You need it more.”

Merlin offers a small smile at Arthur, shivering into the blanket again. “T-thank you.”

Their conversation still makes Merlin feel like they’re walking on eggshells around each other, but it gets better with each word. Merlin is too tired to be upset anymore. He just wants to get Arthur out of this alive. Arthur winces at that moment, reminding Merlin of his busted wrist.

“Let me put that in a sling,” Merlin says, tearing off a piece of the cloak fabric before Arthur can protest. “It will just get worse if it’s limply hanging there.”

Arthur is quiet as Merlin works to fasten his wrist tightly against his chest with practiced hands. It takes a bit longer than usual, as Merlin’s fingers are still numb, but it turns out to be a decent sling with all things considered.

“You’re not an idiot,” Arthur states suddenly. “Well, I mean, sometimes—”

“—Wow, thank you—”

“—No, that’s not what I meant! You can be an idiot, sometimes, but other times…you’re quite wise.” His voice softens, and he whispers out, “This wasn’t your fault. It could have happened to any of us. And truly…I’m glad you’re here with me. There’s no one I’d rather be stuck in a blizzard with.”

Compliments are rare from Arthur, but this compliment is even rarer. Although Merlin now knows that they’re friends, being reminded of the fact that Arthur truly cares about him makes Merlin’s heart race.

“Me neither,” Merlin whispers back. “Even if you do act l-like a dollophead sometimes.”

Arthur laughs briefly. “You know, Merlin, I don’t know if I’ll ever really understand you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…from the moment we met, you were defiant and unruly. You didn’t seem afraid to challenge me, even though I’m royalty. I’ve never met another servant quite like you.”

“I’ve never met another King like you,” Merlin says. “Even though I thought you were a huge jerk at first—”

“Hey!”

“—it didn’t take long for me to realize there was something different about you. Something special. I knew that you’d grow to become the greatest King that Camelot’s ever known.”

“Greatest King? Do you really think that of me?” Arthur asks insecurely.

“O-of course. But don’t let that get to your head.”

“Too late, Merlin. Besides, I can do anything I want since I’m  _ the greatest King _ .”

“I take it all back! You’re just a Royal Arse.”

Arthur grins, knocking his shoulder against Merlin. “Nope! You already said it. No take backs!”

“W-what are we, f-five?” Merlin teases, but the joke falls flat as he shivers again.

Arthur’s brow furrows as he looks at Merlin. “You don’t look any less freezing.”

“I’m f-fine.”

This doesn’t convince Arthur, as he gives Merlin a look before shuffling over to the other edge of the cave. Merlin peers over at Arthur to see what he’s doing. At first, Merlin worries that Arthur is angry again. Soon, though, Merlin realizes that Arthur’s found a few, meager sticks.

“I didn’t think these would be of much use earlier, but they’ve dried out a little bit. I’ll try to get a little bit of a fire going,” Arthur explains, carrying the sodden twigs over and putting them in a small pile.

Merlin can tell with a single glance that the sticks won’t be able to light, at least not without help. Arthur tries to spark it, but it’s impossible with one hand. Merlin takes it from him after reprimanding him for not being careful enough with his wrist. He then instructs Arthur to try and gather more sticks and dried leaves if he can. Merlin knows it won’t do much; it’s just an excuse to get Arthur occupied enough that he doesn’t notice when Merlin’s eyes light gold.

Even with his magic, Merlin worries at first that the sticks won’t catch. Thankfully, though, his spell is enough to light the smallest of flames over the sticks. It won’t stay going all night, but even an hour or two of warmth from the fire will help.

“I can’t believe you got it lit!” Arthur says, coming back over to deposit a few more twigs in the fire.

“J-Just lucky,” Merlin replies.

Merlin untucks his hands and places them as close to the fire as possible without burning himself. Arthur eyes him, then grabs Merlin’s hand and puts it up to his face.

“What are you doing?!” Merlin splutters, trying to yank his hand back towards the fire.

“You have the beginning signs of frostbite.”

“Y-you know,  _ I’m _ the physician here.”

“Well, don’t they say that doctors are usually the worst patients?”

Merlin huffs, easing his fingers from Arthur’s grip and placing them back in front of the fire. “Yeah, well, it’s not like there’s anything you can do about it unless you can find the water for a warm bath somewhere!”

“No need, I have another way!” Then he starts stripping.

_ “Arthur—”  _ Merlin protests. “It’s like you’re trying to die!”

Arthur undoes his chainmail and unstraps his sword from his hip. Underneath, he has a thick wool shirt on that’s semi-dry. He tears that off, too, tanned skin erupting in goosebumps. He follows that by removing his gloves and boots.

“I thought you were a physician,  _ Mer _ lin. You’re freezing, and unless you get somewhat warmed up, you might die of frostbite, and I can’t let that happen.”

Realization dawns on Merlin. “Wait…you’re so worried about me that you’re going to  _ cuddle _ with me to warm me up?!”

Arthur blushes, pausing with one boot still on. “It’s not  _ cuddling _ ! I’m sharing my body heat!”

“By cuddling.”

Arthur glares at him and holds out his boot threateningly. “I swear, Merlin, one more word and I’ll reconsider leaving you here to freeze to death!”

Arthur finishes taking off his boots and pants, leaving on his smallclothes (thank goodness, for Merlin’s own sake). He then instructs Merlin to take off his own wet clothes while Merlin grumbles that he knows how sharing body heat works. Merlin shucks off his measly jacket and shirt, setting them by the fire to hopefully dry up a bit. He takes off his soaked boots and socks, feet looking just as pale as his fingertips. He finishes with his pants, pointedly looking away from Arthur as he does so. They both lie down, Merlin now shivering more than ever. Arthur drapes the cloak over them, which is thick enough that one side is dry.

“You know, you actually have to get close to cuddle with me,” Merlin quips, trying to ease some of the tension.

“I swear to god—” Arthur sighs, making Merlin laugh. Then, a blissfully warm surround him, pulling his back against Arthur's chest.

If Merlin weren’t so cold, this would be much more awkward. Right now, though, all he can focus on is the feeling of heat. He burrows under the cloak, and his icy fingers encircle Arthur’s arm that wraps around him.

“I’m getting the worse end of the deal here,” Arthur complains. “You’re freezing! And bony.”

“You’re warm and insulated.”

Arthur kicks him.

They lie like that for a bit. The only sounds Merlin hears are the blizzard raging outside, the light crackling of the fire, and Arthur’s soft breaths against his neck. Between them, Arthur rests his bad wrist. Merlin feels bad that they don’t have his saddlebag of medicine, right now, as Arthur is most definitely in pain. Merlin knows that Arthur is too proud to say anything, but the occasional tension of his other arm around Merlin tells him all he needs to know.

“I-I wish I could t-treat your wrist better,” Merlin admits, trying to make conversation.

Arthur shifts a bit as if feeling the pain suddenly. “It’s not bad.”

“Still. W-when we get back to Camelot, I’ll make sure Gaius treats you right away.”

“It’s just a broken wrist, Merlin, it’s not like it’s life-threatening, unlike this damned cold.”

“What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath right now,” Merlin sighs.

“When we get back to Camelot, maybe I’ll let you use my bathwater,” Arthur offers.

“Wow, you  _ might  _ let me use your dirty bathwater. How t-thoughtful.”

After that, things get a little blurry. The exhaustion from the day creeps up on Merlin. Combined with the warmth slowly overtaking him, he finds himself drifting into a semi-conscious state of sleep. The solid presence of Arthur behind him adds yet another comfort. Merlin doesn’t realize it, but at some point, he turned in his sleep to face Arthur. Now, he’s tucked under Arthur’s neck, legs tangled together. His own arm is thrown over Arthur’s waist, as well. And then there’s something else comforting, a hand on his scalp, carding his hair softly. Merlin doesn’t dare make a move or a noise, not wanting to risk having Arthur remove his hand. The gesture reminds him of his mother. When he was sick as a boy, she would lie in bed with him, holding him and running a hand through his hair as comfort. Although no one has done it in years, it feels just as comforting as it did when he was a boy. It only takes another minute before Merlin is falling into a deeper, more content sleep.

* * *

Something tickles Merlin’s nose. It’s an annoying distraction when he just yearns to go back to sleep. He scrunches his nose up, going up to scratch it. But he suddenly realizes he’s not back in his small room in Camelot. There’s no sound of the Gaius bustling around, no smell of poultices and porridge brewing in the same room. The surface beneath him is even harder than normal. The biggest hint, though, is the big, breathing lump beside him. Everything from the past day comes rushing back to Merlin at once. He opens his eyes.

Arthur sleeps right beside him. They’re in the same position they fell asleep in. The tickling offender, as Merlin soon figures out, is a stray piece of Arthur’s blonde hair. More aware than last night, Merlin drinks in his proximity to Arthur. As strange as it seems, being cuddled up with Arthur seems as natural as breathing. But as much as his heart may surge and wish for this type of closeness all the time, Merlin’s brain knows it will never be. He’s dared to hope in the past, but it’s brought him nothing besides pain and sadness.

Comfy and warm, a great contrast to yesterday, Merlin tries to fall back asleep as if he never awoke in the first place. Unfortunately, just as Merlin is drifting off again, Arthur shifts. His heart beats faster under Merlin, signaling his awakening. Not wanting to be caught for having woken up already, Merlin evens his breath out and tries to calm himself down. Arthur shifts again softly before freezing, most likely because of Merlin’s head resting on his chest. Something suddenly nuzzles into his hair, but it’s gone as soon as it starts, like a simple accidental touch. Memories of the hand running through his hair last night come back to him, but Merlin assumes it must have been no more than a dream.

Figuring the charade has gone on long enough, Merlin pretends to awaken, shifting and moving more. As soon as he does this, Arthur seems to scoot away from him. It hurts Merlin a bit, but he doesn’t let on. A few seconds later, he opens his eyes. Arthur is still close to him, but not nearly as much as before. The cloak remains over them, but the wind now slivers underneath the openings.

“Good morning, lazy bones,” Arthur greets too cheerily for someone who just woke up. “It’s about time.”

“About time, huh?” Merlin replies. “What have you been doing all this time, sire? Watching me sleep?”

“I—no! I was not,” Arthur protests futilely. “Shut up.”

“Great comeback.”

They smile at each other as if sharing a secret. The tension from yesterday has all but vanished. Although no amazing revelations have been made, Merlin still feels mentally closer to Arthur somehow. He wonders if Arthur feels the growing strength of their connection, as well.

“You don’t look blue anymore,” Arthur tries to mention casually, but the concern in his voice shines through.

“I feel much warmer, although I don’t think either of our temperatures will be completely back to normal until we get to Camelot. How’s your wrist doing?”

Arthur winces a bit. “It’s a bit stiff from last night, but nothing unmanageable.”

“It will have to do for now, I suppose.”

Merlin glances out the cave door. The sheer amount of snow from the blizzard yesterday is evidenced by the piles on the ground. It’s still freezing outside, but the wind has calmed significantly, and only a few stray snowflakes flutter from the sky. The fire must have helped a little bit, too, even though it looks long burned out.

Merlin’s stomach growls loudly all of the sudden, and he realizes just how dry his mouth is. Arthur chuckles at the noise, although Merlin has no doubt he feels the same hunger and thirst.

“Be careful, Merlin, or your stomach may cause an avalanche,” Arthur teases.

“Not everyone has the extra fat they can burn through like you,” Merlin teases back, only to be interrupted by his stomach growling again.

“What I wouldn’t do for some of Gaius’s porridge right now,” Merlin sighs.

“I would probably eat _ rat _ right now,” Arthur admits, causing Merlin to chuckle. “We need to start making our way back to Camelot now, in case another storm hits.”

Merlin knows that Arthur is correct, but none of his limbs feel like moving. Plus, going back to Camelot would include leaving the warm cave, which Merlin also does not want. Meanwhile, Arthur takes initiative and gets up, only struggling slightly. Merlin can’t help but watch as he gets redressed, not even asking for Merlin’s assistance. The tan span of his legs and shoulders disappears once again under fabric. Merlin, trying to hide his blush, stumbles up himself to get dressed. His clothes are still a bit damp, but they’re much warmer than before. When Merlin finishes dressing, he sees Arthur sitting on a ledge of the cave, shoulders slouched, and chin resting in his hands.

Just by looking at him, Merlin can tell what’s wrong, as if their emotions are linked together. Sometimes, Merlin wonders just how accurate the “two sides of the same coin” thing, is because many times, Merlin does feel connected to Arthur in a way he can’t explain. And for some reason, at that moment, Merlin feels the most connected to Arthur that he has ever been. Arthur, sensing his stare, looks up from the ground to meet his eyes. Neither says anything. It’s only after a few seconds that Arthur gets on his feet.

“Come on, then, the day is wasting away,” Arthur says, heading first out of the cave. Merlin follows him, bracing himself for the impact of the wind and snow. Instantly, he’s chillier than he had been in the cave the night before; however, with the winds having died down overnight and the snow having slowed, the cold is less painful and numbing than before.

Although the weather has improved, both Arthur and Merlin’s conditions have declined. Arthur’s wrist is most definitely in pain, especially after lying on the hard ground all night. Not to mention, both of them are bruised and aching from their trek and fall yesterday. And although they are both warmer than before, a bone-deep chill remains that will only be soothed by rest inside the warm castle.

“Do you think we can walk all the way back to Camelot like this?” Merlin questions, gesturing to the poor sight the two of them make.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Arthur responds. “There’s no way we can make it back up from where we fell to get to my horse, and even if we could, there’s no telling if she would still be there.”

Merlin nods his head in agreement, trudging forward. His legs feel like mush, shaking with every step. It doesn’t help that they’re trekking through deep snow.

It doesn’t take long for the weariness to catch up with both of them, either. Soon, Merlin starts stumbling, not as a result of being clumsy (for once), but of being drained of energy. His stomach growls painfully as a reminder. Although Merlin often had to get by on small amounts of food as a child, it’s been a long time since he’s felt such an unpleasant hunger.

Beside him, Arthur starts wincing when he takes too hard of a step because it jostles his wrist. It’s too bad the forest doesn’t come with a nice, smooth path for them to follow back to Camelot. Merlin also notices Arthur’s hand shaking slightly, probably from hunger as well, when he reaches out to steady Merlin after almost falling again.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asks, his hand lingering on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Fine, just weak,” Merlin answers, “Don’t worry about me.”

“I do worry. You have to be in working order to do all of my chores when you get back.”

“Prat. Maybe I should quit since you won’t even grant me a day off after this whole ordeal.”

“You wouldn’t, you’re too fond of me,” Arthur teases gently, although a hint of worry laces his tone.

Merlin lets a smile settle on his lips, “Fond? What gave you that idea, sire?”

They chuckle together, only to lapse into silence a few seconds later. Merlin takes that time to take in his surroundings, to feel the thrum of his magic in his core. As silly as it may seem, it reassures him to feel it there, even if he’s too weak to use it. Just feeling the heat of his magic is enough to help recharge him, help him push onward. But it’s not only his magic that helps him do that. It’s also Arthur.

Arthur, whose hair is rustled and unkempt from the storm. Whose laugh makes Merlin see the brighter side of things. Whose presence keeps him grounded. Whose cloak is nestled around Merlin’s form.

There’s no one Merlin would rather be with.

“Two days,” Arthur speaks suddenly. “That should be more than sufficient to rest your lazy behind. It’s really for my sake, anyways. I don’t know if I could handle your complaining.”

“ _ Only  _ if I can still use your dirty bathwater,” Merlin jokes, then continues, “Are you sure you can last that long without me?”

“I can manage without you, you know. Although, I do have to admit, you’re much more pleasant to be around than George.”

“Was that a compliment?! I wish the others could have heard that. They’ll never believe it.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Merlin. We’ve done enough dilly-dallying already, thanks to you. We should get going again.”

They just start to get going again when Merlin spots cloaked figures on horses off in the distance. He goes to alert Arthur, but Arthur is already one step ahead. He brandishes his sword, holding it in front of them and pushing Merlin behind him slightly. The party approaches fast. Arthur takes cover behind a tree, pulling Merlin flush to his side. Arthur’s sword gleams, reflecting off the snow as he holds it. The sound of hooves in the snow draws closer and closer. Merlin prepares himself to gather up any bit of magic he may be able to use just in case. Suddenly, the hooves quiet. Someone jumps off the horse, landing softly in the snow. Arthur charges from their hiding spot, sword raised. Merlin follows.

They immediately come face to face with Sir Leon.

“Sire! Merlin!” Leon greets, removing his hand from his sword.

Arthur holsters his sword, grinning. “Leon!” The two of them embrace with a few pats on the back.

Beside Leon, all the Knights of the Round Table linger on their horses. Gwaine is the next one to hop down, making his way over to Merlin with a wide grin.

“Merlin, mate! It’s good to see you,” Gwaine says, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulder. “Glad you were able to get Princess back here.” Merlin laughs.

“Well, it was a challenge,” Merlin replies.

“I’m still here, you know,” Arthur reminds them.

“Yes, it’s quite hard to forget.”

Gwaine interrupts their bickering, “As enthralling as this is, I’d say we should get you boys back to Camelot. No offense, but you both look a little bit worse for wear.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to share a horse with you,” Arthur drawls back.

“We brought an extra, just in case,” Lancelot promises, speaking up for the first time. Sure enough, riding by his side is a horse carrying supplies, but no rider.

“I just feel bad about our horses,” Merlin sighs. “I hope they’re okay.”

“Well, then, you’ll be pleased to know that we found them wandering back to Camelot! First, your mare, then Arthur’s mare with a rope attached to it. I’m not quite sure how it managed to slip away from whatever you tied her down to, though,” Percival reports.

“Speaking of which, what happened out there, Sire?” Leon asks.

Arthur, who looks dead on his feet, answers, “I’ll do a briefing later on about all that happened. For now, though, let’s focus on getting back home.”

Everyone agrees, especially Merlin. If it were up to Merlin, he could probably fall back asleep right now while standing. So zoned out, Merlin doesn’t notice Arthur hopping onto the spare horse and calling Merlin’s name at first.

“ _ Mer _ lin,” Arthur calls again, this time bringing Merlin back to the present. He looks toward the noise, seeing Arthur having trotted the horse to Merlin’s side. A gloved hand sticks out in offering, and Merlin looks at him with confusion.

“We already shared a horse once yesterday, Merlin. I think we can manage it once more,” Arthur explains impatiently. “Now hurry up, unless you want to be left behind.”

Merlin takes his hand, allowing himself to be hauled up partway. He settles in behind Arthur, reveling in the feeling of being off his sore feet. His hands automatically fall to Arthur’s waist this time around, and Arthur says nothing.

Gwaine, on the other hand, remarks, “You two shared a horse yesterday? Now I have to hear this story.”

Merlin chuckles. “Later, Gwaine.”

With everyone back on their horses, they head home. According to Elyan, they’re about an hour away from Camelot. Merlin nearly cheers when he hears that, as it feels like they’ve been so far away for so long.

Miraculously, they make it back to Camelot safely. No bandit attacks, no evil sorcerers, no assassins, no magical creatures, no freak blizzards. Merlin’s never felt so lucky in his life.

Getting down from the horse is a challenge for both Arthur and Merlin. With the use of only one arm, Arthur struggles to right himself, needing assistance from the other knights. Merlin manages to scramble off but nearly falls flat on his face in the process. Luckily, Lancelot is by his side to help him with a graceful smile.

They both head to Gaius immediately to get looked over. Lancelot walks with Merlin to the Physician’s chambers, with Arthur walking ahead beside Leon. Somewhat alone, Lancelot takes a chance to ascertain if anything magical happened, and to see if Merlin is truly okay.

“I’m fine,” Merlin reassures him with a crooked smile. “Nothing a little bit of rest won’t fix. I don’t think magic was involved, it was just a sucky blizzard. We’re lucky that you all found us.”

“None of us wanted to go back to Camelot, at first,” Lancelot says. “We were all worried, but figured searching in the dark and a blizzard would be futile. I’m sorry we didn’t find you two sooner.”

“It’s okay. We made it back now, that’s all that matters.”

Lancelot pauses before continuing, “Are you sure nothing happened? You seem…different. Lighter.”

Merlin’s mind flashes back to the cave and the conversation he and Arthur had. He thinks back to the way Arthur made him feel more seen and heard than ever before. He feels the ghost of Arthur’s hand running through his hair. He hears Arthur’s apology running through his head on repeat. Finally, he smiles softly to himself before meeting Lancelot’s curious gaze.

“No, nothing. Simply happy to be home.”


End file.
